


Saga Noren, Scotland Yard

by ARMEN15



Category: Bron | Broen | The Bridge
Genre: Alternate universe Addiction Revenge, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-05-01 03:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14511609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARMEN15/pseuds/ARMEN15
Summary: Update and  revision to  correct small imprecisions. Sorry for the delay, it took me lots of time to refocus on this work.  A AU AU, a work in progress, an idea that captured my mind and had to be written. It starts from series 3 with lots of changes.  being a WIP, it will take time to see it complete.





	1. Chapter 1

As usually no copyright infringment, all rights belong to authors and producers. I try to be respectful of characters. 

Linn Brown was a very capable housekeeper.  
Her master never complained once about the way she managed the house. Her reputation between the families of Warren Road was excellent and she received during the years various offers in case she’d change her current position. But Linn was faithful, devoted to the house and its owners.  
Sometimes she wondered if the other families who wanted her knew how much money she earned, but it was not greed to fuel her devotion.  
It was respect and affection for a person whose life has been so hard and had to choose a very difficult path.  
Linn was mending a curtain when she saw her master coming along the street. It was already quite dark, a typical London winter afternoon.  
She reached the main door and opened it before a gloved hand touched the exterior knob.  
“Welcome home.”  
“Thanks, Linn.”  
She helped in disrobing of coat, hat, umbrella and gloves before placing them on the chair near the fireplace, to get them rid of the misty fog.  
“I’m going out tonight. Call John. Dark carriage.”  
“Yes. Can I prepare your usual bath?”  
“Yes, in an hour or so, I want to read before.”  
“As you wish.”  
“And probably I’m leaving for Paris in two days, I need my travel bag.”  
“You’ll go there for leisure or work?“  
“Work. I’ll have to meet a French colleague. He already sent a telegram to introduce himself.”  
“I’ll pack your best working clothes.“  
“As you always do. I rely on you, Linn, nobody else. Call me when bath is ready.“  
Linn did as she was ordered, preparing the bathroom and taking the black clothes out of the closet in her private parlour. She caressed the dark fabric and took a deep breath.  
If only… Then she continued her tasks, filling the requested travel bag, without forgetting the small black purse she knew so well.  
She assisted her master in dressing, tying all the buttons and letting the clothes fall perfectly on the slim and well toned form. When she saw the carriage leave and John struggling to control the horses, she sighed. “Good luck”, she whispered, “may you find tonight what you need.”

The carriage stopped in front of an East End pub. A woman got off and started walking along the street; her clothes were completely black, like the carriage and the horses.  
The coachman entered the pub and reached a tall man behind the bar; a small purse passed between them without words.  
The coachman retuned outside, telling the woman everything was signed; she entered through a small door on the side street and the tall man made her sit in a secluded corner.  
The pub was crowded, as every Friday night: she looked at the various young men drinking beers and the tall man pointed at some of them, murmuring something at her ear.  
She nodded than stopped the tall man, lifting a gloved hand; he went to one of the young man and asked him to follow at the woman table.  
The young man listened, at first so surprised that he smashed his open hand on the table, then accepting to sit down with her.  
When a few minutes later the woman an the young man stood up, they left the pub through the same side door and hopped on the carriage, who moved toward an industrial area, deserted at night


	2. Chapter 2

The train from Calais arrived at Gare du Nord station with a long delay, due to a carriage stuck in the tracks a few miles after Calais.  
Inspector Sean Noren wanted only to find a place to eat something; he was really hungry after the long travel, then he’d be ready to start his investigation, going to the police station and examining all the reports.   
He was sure his French colleague wouldn’t be at the platform anymore, waiting for him: the delay was so long he’d gone home to his family.  
Henri Sabrè was his name, they spoke briefly at the international phone line; his English was difficult to understand, while Sean’s French was more fluent. They had been chosen for their ability to speak each other’s language, Hans said, and this time Sean doubted the words of his superior and affectionate uncle Hans..  
Sean imagined this Henri like a middle aged man, short and fat with an arrogant attitude, so typical of French people.  
The train stopped and Sean collected his suitcase; the conductor helped, as he did for all first class passenger, wishing Sean a good stay in Paris.   
The platforms were crowded, Sean had to find a way to reach the hall of the station, moving between people, luggage, goods to be delivered and the vapour of the trains.  
At the head of the train a man was looking with attention at the passengers from Calais, like he was waiting for somebody he had never met before.  
Sean noticed him and stopped a few steps before.  
He was medium height, slim, dark brown hair and small moustaches, a little beard on his chin; his eyes were two blue pools, when they met Sean’s an electric charged look passed between them.   
He was simply gorgeous, Sean had to admit himself, how he would like to know more about that stranger.   
The man went closer and addressed Sean with three words he never imagined to hear from him.   
“Inspector Sean Noren?”   
“Yes.”  
“I’m Henri Sabrè.”   
The French colleague offered his hand, it was warm through the gloves Sean was wearing.   
“The train had a long delay.”  
“I knew, I showed my distinctive and the control office of the station told me everything. I had time to visit your hotel and inform you’d be late.”   
They continued talking on their way out of the Gare, Henri insisting to carry his baggage, saying in France it was common to help.  
“I want to start working this evening. After I eat something, I’m hungry.”  
“Is a Brasserie good for you? We can eat together, then go to my office, I’ll show you the case note. I’m hungry, too.”  
“Don’t you eat at home?”   
“Nobody is at home, I live alone.”  
For a moment Henri’s face was sad, then he shook his head and prompted Sean to cross the road and walk together for a short distance.   
“Brasserie des arcades, let’s try this one, a friend suggested me.”  
They sat at table facing the street, Henri wanted Sean to have a view; Paris was indeed the city of lights, Sean noticed the continuous flood of people, carriages and cars, more than in London.   
They both ordered the dish of the day, roasted duck with vegetables, Sean ate with impressive speed, casting frequent glances to the man sit in front of him.   
They took a public car to go to the police station, stopping at Sean’s hotel to leave the suitcase.  
“I’ve reserved for you this hotel because it is close to my house, in case you may need help.”  
“Thanks.”  
“We can go work in the morning together and stop for the petit dejuner.”  
“French breakfast.”  
“Yes. I’ll show you my favourite patisserie. This is my headquarter.”  
Sean looked around, they were on the Ile de la cite, the heart of Paris, Henri told him.   
The bridges, Notre Dame, the Conciergerie: Henri pointed at the monuments and the view over the seine he suggested Sean to admire was mesmerizing,  
The building was ancient, Henri lead Sean through a series of corridors and stairs to his place of work.  
“This is my desk and I’ve set one for you near the window, so you can look down at Place Dauphine.”  
They discussed the details of the case; the woman found dead, Helen Anger, was English, married to a French citizen. She was born as the youngest daughter of an Earl and her first marriage ended up in a big scandal, she was found with a female lover.   
Sean added to the case file the reports he took from London and Henri read them accurately, his written English was sure better than his accent.   
The marriage to the old French colonel, twentyfive years older, was supposed to be a convenience one, but now the Earl wanted to know the reason his daughter was killed and he insisted with Scotland Yard to sent a detective to Paris.  
Sean and Henri translated together the medical reports; the heart had been cut out and was nowhere to be found near the crime scene.  
Sean asked for a large board to pin the facts of the case; he needed to see everything showed up together and Henri promised to find one the following morning.   
He was curious regarding his English colleague, he liked his attitude and the attention he had on the case.  
Sean seemed commanding and effective, Henri imagined he was in his late thirties, but his face appeared younger, like a boy still in his teens, with few facial hairs.   
The eyes were cold blue, the gaze piercing and challenging at the same time. Sean was shorter than him and his frame thinner, he kept on the olive green coat inside the office, like he did at the brasserie.  
They left the police station after midnight, Sean’s desk was already perfectly organized, Henri’s superior would sure appreciate the tidiness.  
Sean spoke a little during the walk toward the hotel, asking to see the crime scene and the body at the morgue.  
They parted with the agreement to meet at six o‘clock next morning.  
“I see you don’t sleep a lot, just like me.” Henri said before Sean entered the hotel door. 

 

Sean closed the door of his hotel room and breathed deeply; he was physically and mentally tired, it seldom happened to him to be so exhausted, the long travel had indeed took its toll on him. The concierge had already lit the lamp and Sean lowered its intensity and closed the curtains. He wanted more darkness, he needed to think, to free his mind from the images of the day and from the dangerous image of Henri Sabre’.   
Sean took off his coat and sat on the bed to get rid of the boots.   
Looking around, the room was very comfortable, the colleague choose well, his taste was indeed excellent, like the restaurant they had dinner together.  
It would be interesting to work with him, Sean reflected about the case and how they discussed the details at the station.  
He unbottoned jacket and trousers and draped them on the chair, then off was his white shirt.   
Sean took off the travel bag a smaller one, opened it and put the items in a drawer with a piece of soap, closing with the key and hiding it in his bag.   
When away from home, he had to wash by himself some things, not relying on the hotel laundry service.  
He put the dressing gown on the bed and turned toward the mirror to remove the underwear, loosing the laces of the specially made bust to reveal the round curves of two perfect breasts and the morbid hips of a woman.  
“Bonsoir Saga Noren, bienvenue a Paris.”, she said to the reflection in the mirror.


	3. Chapter 3

CH 3

Sean and Henri entered the morgue around eight in the morning, the head pathologist greeted them and called his assistant to show them the corpse.  
Sean didn’t blink at the horrible cut in the middle of the chest; Henri was impressed by his stoicism, he himself sometimes feel really bad there and avoided as much as he could to visit the place. He was quite prone to regret his idea to have breakfast together, such the wound was cruel and disgusting.  
Sean asked how much strength was needed to separate the rib cage and the doctor said that once the victim was dead everybody could have done it.  
“So also a woman? Not only a man?”  
“Yes, why do you ask?” The doctor questioned.  
“The victim was involved with women in the past, she was considered as a lesbian in London newspapers, I wonder if in France she had similar affairs.”  
While they reached the crime scene, Saga suggested Henri to investigate about the female friendship of Helen Anger.  
“We can ask her housekeeper, the house is not so far from where she was killed.”  
“Can we go now?”  
“Sure, as soon you're finished here.”  
Sean went close to the table set as a formal dinner, with four chairs covered by red panels, and the fake heads of a man and two children plastered over the panels, as to make it appear a domestic scene. The empty chair was red with the blood of the victim.  
The housekeeper was a young woman with thick black hair and a pointed nose, the shape of a hawk, it was difficult not to notice it.  
She responded indignated at Sean’s questions about same sex relationships of her dead employer.  
Henrik repeated each questions, fearing the Spanish accent of the housekeeper could prevent her form understanding the Englishman.  
“Why do you repeated all my questions?” Sean asked when they were again walking outside.  
“Because she is Spanish, I have already noticed the first time she was asked questions.”  
“She gave us some references of acquaintances of Helen, have you already verified all?”  
Henri scanned the list, Sean noticed his memory was excellent and he hoped they could find some new ideas.  
There were two new names, one the widow of the Fevre, a family of enterpreneurs active in real estate in Paris that Henrik already know by the press, famous for charity events and the other the wife of a right wing member of English parliament who moved to Paris for the summer season.. 

 

Back at the police station, they received the addresses of the new names given by the Spanish housekeeper; Mrs. Fevre house was near Avenue de Wagram but when they visited the house the servants informed that she was currently away in her large estate near Troyes.  
The other woman, Louise Roberts, was in London. Before they could report the news to Inspector Lagrange or Hans a telephone call from the Sorbonne asked their presence, a teacher had been found murdered in a fountain inside one of the cloisters.  
The crime scene was again staged with care; the body was quite naked, an arrow piercing his head and above the pillar of the fountain there was a human heart, partially eaten by the birds.  
Sean asked the pathologist to verify if the heart was of a woman, presumibly Helen Anker, considering the size.  
Henri was controlling if there were missing parts and the body seemed untouched, except for the book that was covering his crotch.  
Sean lifted it carefully, neither of them was prepared to the blood and the missing genitalia.  
They left the Sorbonne late in the evening, after questioning the members of the theology faculty, to whom the inner cloister with the fountain belonged.  
The sequel of faces and names had to be carefully summarized in a long report, so they spent the whole evening at work, asking the bistrò in front of the station to prepare a casserole and to deliver in the office. Sean ate with taste, but Henri retorted his casserole was much better; he was talented at cooking, he swore, and Sean would have to try his ability soon when they'd had a moment of pause with the case.  
Sean returned to the hotel. A full day with Henri, Sean was already missing his presence. It was something new for him and he tried to dissect his reactions. Henri was beautiful, but was he worth his secret? It was the first time in Sean’s life he felt a similar attraction. The men he used in London were simply a device to satisfy physical needs, nothing more.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4  
As usual, no copyright infringement. 

Inspector Lagrange summoned Henri and Saga in his office after they returned from Versailles.   
They had met the husband of Helen, without success. The old colonel was stiff and responded with monosyllables to the questions. He'd been a widow for 15 years before he met Helen and they fell in love and married. The colonel was an army man, little respectful of police or “the army in good suit” as he qualified it.   
He had refused to discuss about Helen's sexual preferences and said his will was already written and the heirs would be his three grown up children from his first marriage.   
The press wrote gore details of the last victim, the teacher who was left to bleed with his male parts torn off. So Henri’s boss was angry, his superiors pretended a quick solution of the homicides.  
“I need results very soon, my superiors are insistent and want us to solve this case immediately, two people already killed in such brutal ways! I want a decisive report by Monday. “  
Henri and Saga spent the rest of the afternoon reading again all the informations, forgetting time, hunger and fatigue. Sean noticed Henri sometimes took off from his drawer a small metal object and went to the bathroom, returning after a short time.  
He become alerted and pretending to show him a report leaned onto his desk; he was sure there was smell of alcohol on Henrik’s breath.   
When the pendulum clock of the main room beat nine Henri stretched his back.  
“Do you have plans for this evening?”  
“Not at all.”   
“It’s Wednesday, I’m going to Madame Marie.”  
“Who is she?”   
“She owns a maison du plaisir. I go there twice a month, come with me, you’ll feel so good after.”   
“A man like you can easily get a lovely wife, why you use a maison?”  
“I don’t want a wife. I just...need what the girls offer.”   
Sean was torn between curiosity to see a place like that and a feeling he never felt before.  
He had imagined a man like Henri could not live like a monk, but reality was different from imagination.  
He accepted, without reflecting too much and while they were on the carriage illumination struck him: how could he play the male part in such a dangerous situation?  
Sean was going to risk everything he had carefully built in years for Henri.  
The entrance of the brothel was well concealed behind a gate just off rue due l’Auberge, on the right bank of the Seine, near Place de la Republique.  
The stairs were dark and apparently not used often, although Sean imagined the scene was set on purpose.  
They entered a small room where a girl insisted to get their coats; Sean tried to oppose in vain, without his green olive garment he felt exposed, his body was covered by other layers of tissue but the coat was his shield.   
They walked along a narrow passageway, leading to the main hall.  
Voices, smoke and music from a piano.  
The space was crowded, nearly a dozen of man sat in armchairs or couches surrounded by what seemed a wave of girls dressed in silk undergarments and pink dressing gown.  
When Henri entered some girls run to him, kissing his cheeks lightly and running fingers in his hair.  
An older woman followed, her arms open to briefly embrace Henri.  
“Madame Marie, bonsoir, this is my English friend, Sean. We're working on a serious case, I thought he could find some...distractions here tonight.”  
“Mon ami, we will take care of him immediately. Josette, Louise, a friend of Monsieur Henri. It's his first time here, take care of him.”  
Two girls with brown hair separated the two policeman and Sean was dragged to a chaise longue under a window.  
Sean struggled to keep control of the situation.   
Henri was in a conversation with a tall slim girl with short dark hair who was smiling and caressing his back. They soon mowed toward the stairs and Sean felt his stomach tense at the idea of Henri in bed with that girl.  
Luise and Josette tried to get Sean's attention, with poor results.  
He noticed the darkness was on purpose, lots of small corners where the couples could isolate for a little probing before going upstairs.   
The pale flesh of the girls contrasted with the dark suits of men and the red and green velvets of the tapestry.  
Madame Marie came to Sean.  
“Monsieur Sean, did you find somebody suitable for you? I’ll never left unsatisfied a friend of our dear friend.”   
Her eyes were scrutinizing Sean s face more than education suggested.  
Sean took the arm on his right, Lisette's, and nodded at Madame to get rid of her piercing stare; the girl lead him to one of the room on the upper floor.  
The furniture was elegant and bed linens sure expensive, but the absence of windows and the small dimension was oppressive.   
Lisette tried to open one of the buttons of Sean’s jacket.   
“No, not today.”  
“Why not?”  
“I like to go at my pace.”   
“You're not like Monsieur Henri.”   
“What is he like?”  
“He is a real gentleman, straight intercourse with no strange requests. Never he hurted one of us.”  
“My request is not hurtful. I want to see you touch yourself for tonight.”  
“Just that?”  
“Yes, it’s my pace, I told you.”  
Lisette did as requested, and Sean pretended to pay attention, while his mind was with Henri and the dark haired girl in the other room.  
Never he imagined jealousy would be so, the idea the man he wanted so much could have any other woman except him was like a knife cutting his skin.  
When he went downstairs, Henri was already there, waiting for him.   
Sean wanted to walk.   
“How far is the office?”  
“Close, more or less a twenty minutes walk.”  
“Can we go there now? I want to control a report.”  
They talked about the case while walking, examining again every detail.  
Sean lighted a cigarette, one of the few he was used to smoke, just to erase the perfume of the girl his nostrils were smelling on Henri.


	5. Chapter 5

CH 5

The dean of theology was a friar and he sent the guardian of the convent to the police station to ask a private meeting with the investigators.  
Sean and Henri were invited to the dean's apartment in a secluded cloister near the Pantheon.  
Sean was surprised by the narrow streets they walked by, that opened up in an ancient amphitheatre.  
Henri explained it was a Roman monument, recently discovered.  
After a short walk they entered the cloister, some men dressed in traditional cassoks were walking or reading around the central well.  
“Are they catholic?” Sean asked Henrik.  
“Yes, Sorbonne is a secular university but some priests do teach there.”  
“Are you catholic?”  
“I've lost my faith. I was raised so and now I wonder why God wanted to test me so much.”  
Sean wanted to ask more but they were summoned by the dean's secretary, who introduced them to a a small sitting room with a table, four chairs and a little faldstool under a religious painting of the Holy Family.  
“I asked you to come here because there is a delicate matter to discuss.”  
The dean was a tall and thin man, whose low voice betrayed his distress.  
His eyes met Sean's who soon diverted his gaze, he was somehow like the dean could read into his soul and see Saga instead of Sean.  
It was a foolish idea, Paris was playing tricks on his mind, but Sean was uncomfortable so he stood up and went to the window, letting Henri lead the questioning.  
Henri understood something wasn't right and after a quick eye contact with Sean turned back his attention to the man sat in front of him.  
“We assure everything you'll say about the homicide will be strictly confidential and not divulgated outside police.”  
“Thanks. Father Abraham was a well known theologian but as a man…" He stopped, "I was not his confessor and what I discovered can be revealed.”  
Henri imagined the secret of catholic confession was lost on Sean. “We understood your concern.”  
Sean turned brusquely but Henri lifted a hand to prevent him from speaking.  
“Father Abraham had travelled around Europe. He was a teacher in Spain, Italy and Ireland.”  
The dean made a list of the universities.  
“Each time his departure was quite abrupt, I must say.”  
“Can you explain “abrupt”?”  
“There were rumours about him and some students, sinful liasons, sodomy.”  
“Sodomy is forbidden in England and Ireland. Remember Oscar Wilde and his trial.”  
Sean stated.  
The dean turned toward him.  
“Your accent is not French, are you a foreigner?”  
“My colleague is from London. Please continue.” Henri explained to divert attention from Sean.”  
“Sodomy is a sin against god's laws. Nothing was never proved but I planned to talk with him and suggest to stop teaching in any university. His age would be suitable for a dignified retirement and a life in a quiet village.”  
“And how did he react to your proposal?”  
“He was killed before I could speak about it with him.”  
When they left, Sean's questions started.  
“How was the dean informed? Who told him? Here or not? Did the killer know about his sexual preferences so he cut his penis?  
Henri tried to stop the firing and suggested Hans could investigate in Belfast, where Abraham teached for three years.  
Sean agreed.  
“Helen's father is an Irish earl although now he lives in London. We need to know if there is a link with Abraham and with Belfast.”  
“As soon as we reach the office.”  
Henri lead Sean to the nearest metro station; on the crowded train they had to stand very close. “The dean was examining you.”  
“I noticed, you tried to get his attention to avoid his focus on me.”  
“I saw you were nervous when he talked about sodomy.”  
“I'm not partial to priests and monks, that's all.”  
“In France sodomy is not so sinful.”  
Henri spoke without thinking, then stopped and realised immediately that he had raised again that dangerous topic.  
French attitude with sex was more free than overseas but Frenchmen took pride in their skills to seduce women, not men.

__________

Sean returned to Madame Marie a few days after the first visit, with a proposal and a large amount of money.  
The woman was only slightly surprised when Sean revealed the truth about his sex.  
“I've seen so many strange things in my life...anyway be here next Wednesday at 6. He arrives usually around 9 so we have time to prepare you. It is important to work on your hair, you musty be dark everywhere. “  
“I'll be on time, what I want is nobody around him that evening. “  
“As you wish, the girls adore him because he's always correct, but I do see your point.”  
“If you follow my request you'll see more of this points.” Sean said, giving her the money,, “So .. d'accord?”  
Madame bowed her head. The offer was so enchanting she'd close the brothel every other Wednesday to please the English policeman.


	6. Chapter 6

As usual no copyright infringements. 

CH 6 

The chosen day all the girls were around Saga, they wanted to see the woman who desired so much monsieur Henri to dare play such a part.  
Make up, fake hair, completely body shaving, silk chemisier, perfume, everything was ready.  
The girls remembered Saga the no kissing rule of the maison and assured her Henri would never force himself against her will.  
Saga prepared herself with the protection. It was her favourite invention of the new century and it has been some weeks she had not used it; in London she was careful also to count the safe days not to risk anything.  
This time the danger was higher, so she asked for some vinegar to wash herself after Henri would go away.  
Henri arrived a little earlier than usual.  
Madame approached him swiftly offering a glass of champagne; the girls had received instructions to be courteous but keep a distance.  
“I've thought about you, Monsieur, I've got something special tonight, if you want to meet our new girl. She arrived Sunday and I've introduced her only to very selected people.”  
“With pleasure, Madame.”  
She took Henri by the arm and led him toward the most secluded spot, a couch under the stairs where Saga was reading a small poem book.  
“Charlotte, this is monsieur Henri, one of our most precious friends.”  
“Bonsoir, Monsieur Henri, would you like to sit near me?”  
Saga indicated the vacant spot on her left.  
Henri saw the cascade of dark hair, blue eyes, pale skin and lips with a red make up. She was indeed very beautiful and her voice captivated him, but something was a little strange.  
“Your French is very good, but you’re not French, aren't you?”  
“I was born in Italy and lived for a long time in Bruxelles. My sister worked here, when she married a rich widow I decide to move.“  
“Your accent reminds me of a police colleague from London. I imagined you lived there, too.”  
“Our Madame in Bruxelles was English and we had a lot of English customers there, so I’ve learned French in a particular way.”  
“What are you reading?”  
“Poems by Elisabeth Barret Browning, do you know her?”  
“No, I’m not well versed in poetry. Would you read me a quote?”  
“How do I love thee?  
Let me count the ways.  
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height.  
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight for the ends of being and ideal grace.  
I love thee to the level of everyday’s most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.  
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;  
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.”  
She closed the book.  
“But what about you? What do you do?” Saga asked, putting deliberately a hand on Henri’s shoulder, as Madame suggested; an effort for her.  
“I'm a policemen.”  
“A dangerous work. Did you were ever wounded?”  
“Yes, once, in my left arm.”  
“I imagine the pain you had.”  
“I could forget every pain just looking at you, Mademoiselle.”  
She pretended a little coyness, Madame told her that it was what man desired in such circumstances. Somehow she'd hoped Henri was not so common like, but according to Madame there was a very sad secret in his life, unknown to Madame herself .  
“We could look at each other in a most comfortable place.”  
“I think it is a very good idea.”  
They went upstairs; Madame had set a room with soft candlelight and silk linens, the one used only for the best customers.  
Saga let the silk dress fall from her shoulders and silhouetted against the light.  
Henri was mesmerized by her forms, the contour of her breasts, her fit belly, her toned legs.  
He had seen lots of girls before, nobody was like Charlotte.  
She moved toward him, her voice murmuring words he could not fully understand, such was the turmoil he was feeling inside.  
Henri was on fire, he embraced Saga and they fell on the bed; Saga placed a hand on Henri chest to stop him. She did not wanted to be touched too much.  
“I want you to so something for me before.”  
“Whatever you want.”  
“Undress for me.”  
Henri never had such a request by the girl but there was a commanding look in her face so he started with his jacket.  
This was different from the other nights at the maison, Charlotte eyes were so powerful he felt like drowning in them.  
He cold not keep his gaze off those blue pools; for a brief instant he saw Sean's eyes in Charlotte, but dismissed the thought.  
Sean was a man and a colleague and he could not feel attraction for a male.... or could he?  
Sean, who left the station early in the afternoon making Henri wonder about his whereabouts.  
His mind was wandering and Saga recalled him.  
“Monsieur Henri, are you lost?”  
“Oh no, Mademoiselle, I was thinking you eyes are so beautiful.”  
He get rid of his collar and shirt and was bare chested in front of her  
“I imagine you'd be so perfect.”, she teased him.  
“It there is perfection here, it only yours.”  
He took off his boots and unbottoned his trousers, janking off them and the underwear in a single motion.  
Saga licked her lips in anticipation.  
The desire she was feeling since the first time Sean saw Henri at the train station was reaching such a level she needed him now. She let her night gown fall from her shoulders, revealing her total nakedness and lied back on the bed, raising a leg in invitation.  
Henri wasted no time in joining her and settled between her legs.  
He probed her with a finger and felt her wet and ready.  
With a single motion he entered her, moving a little then remaining still to look at Charlotte in the eyes.  
She lifted her hips to prompt him to move and he obliged, increasing the rythm and seeing her face radiant with pleasure.  
He was sure the girls of the maison often were faking their orgasm, but this time he was sure it was real for her like it was for him.  
He felt her peak and his followed soon, arching his back and then resting for a while in her arms.

Thursday morning Henri was still remembering his time with Charlotte when he arrived at the police station.  
Sean was already there, the fabric of his coat wet for the rain, looking a little tired and with some circles around his eyes  
“Did you slept bad?” He asked. “Don't get a cold so soaked up.”  
“I retuned late to the hotel.”  
“I hope you had some fun. I met a new girl last night, it was something so intense I never imagined it was possible to find there.”  
“We must concentrate on a new case, a man had been fund dead near Giverny, it seems somebody killed him after hitting him in the head.”  
“Why this is related to our case?”  
“He is the brother of the late husband of Madame Fevre. We need to go there. My coat will get more soaked..”


	7. Chapter 7

CH 7 

Giverny, a dramatic setting for a murder, one of the goriest Sean ever saw.   
The man, identified as Hubert Fevre from some documents in his pocket, has been beaten to death with a thick stick, his wrists and arms tied up, the body hanging by two ropes tied to a solid branch of an old oak. A pool of blood was still visible under the body, the soil couldn’t absorb it fully.   
Sean and Henri had walked through the village that was lovely by itself, a strong contrast to the touch of evil in a quiet pasture where a large crowd had assembled; the local police tried to stop people form getting too close to the corpse, making Sean very angry.   
Sean feared the crime scene had already been damaged, he forced people to leave, so they could examine the area under the tree.  
The killed choose an isolated field, partially hidden by a line of trees following the shores of a small ford, a place where surely no one, except the cattle, could see him while the light of the day was dying.   
Henri lowered the body from the branch and cut with a knife the bandage over the upper part of the face. What he found made him sick, the eyes had been tore off, such a disgusting vision he went down on his knees and retched into the ford. Sean was speaking with the local colleague and at first did not saw Henri’s distress. He turned and approached the corpse, calling his partner; Henri stood up and saw Sean’s concentration was at the top.   
“Heart, penis and now eyes. It shows a modus.”  
“And a great precision.” Henri knelt again near the damaged face. “Sean, look at the cut, perfect, no hesitation, deep into the bulbs.”   
He was right, Sean expressed his belief it was made by a professional, someone used to cut meat, a butcher, a hunter, a surgeon, skilled in dealing with flesh.   
“The killer wants us to recognize the victims, it would be easy to let us waste time in guessing the identity.” Sean added.   
“So you think there is a pattern?”  
“We need to find it.”

____

Sergeant Plisson of the XVIII arrondissement hated the slope hill of Montmartre during rainy days. After a week of rain, water was running down the narrow streets like a river and the infiltrations had cause the failure of the old building; while cleaning the area from mud and debris, the workers noticed the skeleton.  
His inspector wanted a urgent report and Plisson was already soaked when he saw the small yard inside the ruined house covered in mud; his boots soon became brown.  
The carpenters told him the skeleton was in the cellar and helped him along the slippery stairs with a torch.   
He examined the body, at first glance a woman, traces of a dress, the soil of black shoes and at a closer inspection two rings, apparently gold he thought; the whores of the area seldom had gold jewels.  
Plisson removed the rings, they were heavy, a sign of wealth; the first had a green stone, the second was a wedding ring, he read the engraving “Henri 8.9.1892.”  
He took them to inspector Durand, who ordered to control the marriage registers of Paris and surrounding area, to compare them with the list of missing women, when the doctor of the morgue certified it was a woman; the absence of fractures made difficult to explain the cause of death. After two days of investigation Durand was able to identify the skeleton as the wife of a colleague, Henri Sabrè.

Henri at first couldn't believe what Durand was telling him, he had been summoned to Montmartre without an explanation; he had always imagined Alice had left France. Durand showed him the rings and he recognized them as those he gave her for their engagement and wedding.   
They descended together into the cellar.  
“And my daughter? She must be here too.”   
“We have dug for a day, she's not here.”  
“It is not possible, you haven’t dug enough, you must... I'll do it for you.”  
He knelt on the floor and started moving stones with his bare hands.   
Durand tried to stop him and Henri resisted, fighting against the colleague, a taller and stronger man who managed to grab both his arms.  
“We’re sure she isn't here, your wife was buried alone, your daughter can be alive, we'll start a new search. These old houses are a refuge for burglars, we can find a trace.” 

 

Henri returned to his office with a heart full of sadness. He had no other places to go, his house was an empty shell; he hoped Sean would still be there to have somebody to talk with.  
The light of the lamp on the desk at the corner told him Sean was still working, clad in his coat against the cold, writing something in his small note book.  
Sean heard heavy steps approaching and turned.  
“It is late, why are you here?”   
“I walked from Montmartre”  
“A very long distance.”  
When their eyes met, Sean noticed Henri’s were puffy and red.  
“What happened?”  
“You once asked me why I don't want a wife. The truth is that my wife and my little daughter disappeared six years ago, I came home an evening and they weren't there. I've searched them for months, never found the faintest trace. Today my wife's skeleton was found, she had my name and our marriage date engraved on her ring.”  
“Where was she found?”   
“In Montmartre, under a semi collapsed house.”   
“Cause of death?”   
“Unknown, the doctor says no fractured bones, but it is too late to find a cause. The skeleton was there for more or less five years, the doctor said. And my daughter isn't there.”  
“I'm sorry.”   
Henri nodded and approached Sean, somehow relieved they had talked, that Sean was available when he needed him.   
Sean's profile against the window appeared beautiful, Henri felt his colleague's eyes on him and a strange heat spread inside.  
He moved closer, he wanted to touch Sean, to caress his face, he never had for a man what he was experiencing.  
His hand moved of its own volition and rested on Sean' s clothed forearm, who accepted the contact.  
Henri was unable to breathe, to speak, his throat constricted in tears and sobs; Sean was immobile, unused to that kind of contact, frightened and at the same time eager to have someone near him. Henri was so distressed that it could be a simple reaction and not a conscious choice. Sean decided to go on playing the friend’s part, it was not the time or place to reveal himself. He smelled Henri's scent, the same scent that was becoming a part of his life.  
They forget for a few moments the rest of the world, then outside a bell tower beat the hour and the moment was lost.   
Henri stepped backward and hid his face in his handkerchief, wetting tears.

____

Hans sent a complete report regarding Lord Anger and his links with Ireland; Sean and Henri spent the morning reading it and later meeting Lefebre.   
With detailed descriptions of the Anger’s estate near Belfast, the house in London and other properties mainly in the south part of Ireland, Hans had made a list of the visits Lord Anger made in the emerald island during the last five years.   
The average was four a year, lasting from two to four weeks each, concentrated in the months from April to October, plus one always before Christmas.   
The crew of the boats remembered well the Earl, who used to leave them good tips; they told the police he used to travel with his secretary and his butler, using a first class cabin for himself and a second class one for the staff.  
Lord Anger used to take residence in his Belfast house, attend some social events and travel around. He was a patron of the local university so they guessed he could have easily met Abraham during some formal occasions. He was also in the board of some charity trusts, especially for children in need and orphans.  
Hans wrote the investigation in Ireland was still open and he would add more info from his Belfast colleague.  
Sean wanted to work on the death of Hubert Fevre, questioning his relatives and particularly Madame Favre, who was still in Troyes; it had to wait, because Henri was busy with the burial of his late wife.   
Sean read again the notes to make a list of people related to the last murderer and discovered Hubert was the half brother of Madame's Fevre husband, sharing an English mother only. He was the product of her second marriage and had spent his youth in England and France. Hubert worked for a few years in London in a charity organization for the homeless. Sean wrote Hans to verify Belfast branches of the organization. When in France, Hubert was guest of the Favres.  
The links with England were increasing day by day and Sean struggled to find a common denominator. He was sure there was a connection and increased his efforts to find it.


	8. Chapter 8

CH 8

Henri returned from Rouen after Alice’s funeral and hide in his home in Rue d’Argenton, spending the evening alone, two bottles of wine on the table near his armchair.  
Sean had gone with him at the train station in the morning, offering to keep him company during the travel; Henri had politely refused, wanting to be alone.   
The memories of the evening at the office was still vivid in his mind, he never felt such attraction toward a man, Sean was his colleague, how could they work together should Henri gave space to a pervert desire?  
But he felt it wasn’t pervert, he was connected to Sean, at a level deeper than mere lust, and the fear to admit it, to act on it, was becoming bigger and bigger. .   
Henri regretted his decision to keep Sean away; the day had been terrible, Pierre Bouet, his father in law, accused him of not being able to protect Alice, whose ,mother, Therese, cried for the whole time. It was easy to blame Henri, to pretend they were deeply mourning Alice.   
Henri poured himself a glass from the second bottle, he wanted to get drunk to forget everything. It was his way to oblivion, since he started working with Sean he avoided to indulge too much in his vices and the absinthe remained untouched.  
He ignored the first knock at the main door, but the second and the third were insistent; when he opened, Sean entered without asking permission.  
They faced each other in the sitting room, Sean scanned around and saw the bottles of wine.  
“What do you want?” Henri asked.   
“To check on you.”  
“I'm fine, you can go.”  
“No, you're drunk.”   
“I'm not drunk, I can walk in line, look.”  
Henri quite fell twice on the floor trying to avoid the armchair.  
“You must stop and go to sleep.”  
“I sleep on the couch. It isn’t the first time, won't be the last. I don't want her bed, her house. Her family bought everything here, Rue d’Argenton was in the right arrondissement, they bought me too, and today they hoped I was the one buried instead of her.”   
“You're grieving, you're not rational.”  
“No. She left me to be free again, but she took my baby away. I can't forgive her.”   
“We can search for your daughter.”   
“I've done it for years.“  
Henri grabbed the bottle to drink directly from it.  
“No!”   
Sean insisted and Henri showed him off with force, making Sean fall on the couch; his leg caught wood and he grimaced in pain.   
Henri put the bottle on the floor and knelt near him.   
“Did I hurt you?”   
“It's nothing.”  
“Astrid was the only thing important for me. They trapped me in a marriage, but I loved my girl, she was my only joy. I thought they were together, now where can I found her?”  
Henri started sobbing, tears running on his cheeks, he grabbed Sean’s hands and cried all his desperation; Sean remained petrified, not knowing what to do to console Henri, to ease his pain.  
When the tremors subsided, Sean helped Henri to walk the stairs up to the bedroom.   
Henri fell on the bed completely dressed, Sean removed his shoes and covered him with a duvet.  
“Please stay.” Henri whispered.   
“Do you want me to stay?”   
“Yes.”  
Sean looked around, there was an armchair opposite the bed.   
“Good. I’ll sleep there.”  
“Maybe…you could give a look to my case? It’s in my desk, first drawer.”  
Henri was lost for the world in a short time and Sean explored the house with a lamp; all was clean and tidy, the kitchen, the dining room, the bathrooms, Henri 's private study.   
Sean opened the last door on the first floor, a bedroom for a daughter, perfectly furnished, untouched, like the owner was away only for a few days.  
Dolls, children books, pink pillows and a yellow wooden scarf still on the chair.   
Henri had left everything like his daughter was still sleeping there.   
It was strange to see this side of him, different from the detective; he had a wife and daughter and now was alone, drank too much and searched solace in the arms of woman he was willing to pay.  
Sean imagined Henri on the same armchair holding his baby daughter, singing lullabies to her or reading a bed time story. This was the dark secret Madame Marie was referring to, and the way Henri keep everything in order in his child's room was the proof.   
Sean was curious, went downstairs and took off the case folder, then he put more logs into the fire and started reading. 

 

The travel to Troyes to see Madame Favre was disturbed by thunders and heavy rain; Sean and Henri left the train to meet Duprè, the local colleague, who accompanied them to their destination.  
The carriage left the detectives near the entrance gate of the large estate and the walk along the front garden was short but enough to completely soak coats and hats. They arrived at the main door dripping wet and the maid who opened it forced them to stay on the threshold for a while before entering the house and took their coats to place them in front of a fire.  
Madam Favre received the policemen in her formal sitting room, sat on an antique chair, like the rest of the furniture, expressing wealth and power; if it was meant to impress them, Sean focused on the woman’s face only, not caring the rest. It wasn’t easy to fool Sean Noren.   
Madame Fevre appeared extremely distressed by the death of her brother in law, she twisted often her golden necklace, shed some tears, swore the dead had no enemies, was a respectable member of the society and attended often the parish of Saint Luis when he was in Troyes,   
They had to leave with nothing new to add to the case, so Henri proposed Duprè to go to Saint Louis the following morning, to question the priests.   
Duprè offered them help to find an accommodation for the night, the annual textile fair permitting. They spent half an hour checking the hotels around the station without success, until Duprè suggested to go to his cousin, owner of a small hotel just outside town, with a restaurant he was sure they could eat into.  
Sean and Henri were forced to share the only remaining bedroom, with the promise of a memorable meal in compensation.  
Dinner was indeed exquisite, terrine de campagne, fauxfilet with vegetables, a selection of cheese and an excellent red wine.  
“What she said was a series of lies.” Sean stated, a forkful of carrots in hand, “Her body language was opposite her words, she tried to hide her face all the time with that fan.”   
“I noticed it.”   
“I’ve read Darwin’s works and some experimental essays about how we act in public, how we wants to be perceived and how the others perceive us. Madame Favre was a perfect example.”  
“It’s interesting. You know so many things, Sean. Your mind is very sharp.”  
Henri poured Sean another glass of wine but the Englishman said one was enough; Henri emptied the rest of the bottle.  
The owner offered a calvados as a night cap and Sean refused, his head was already spinning with the single glass he drunk.  
When Sean got up form the chair near the fireplace, he could not walk properly and had to lean on the tables nearby; Henri rose to help.   
“Come on, it was just a glass of Bordeaux.”  
“Told you I don't drink. No good for being logical.”  
“You’d prefer a scotch?”   
“No. I keep….mind clear... sharp.”  
It was difficult to reach the top floor of the hotel, the last stairs were narrow and slippery, Henri had to put an arm under Sean shoulder to support him; they were close, too close for being comfortable.  
Henri felt in his nostrils the scent of Sean’s hair, a mixture of sandal and pine that was driving him mad.  
“Just three steps and we are there.”  
“Said before, two stairs down.”  
“You are drunk, but you’re still logical.”   
“Only for simple things. I need to lay down, my head spins.”  
“You Englishmen, never able to taste the good things in life.”  
Sean turned at Henri and look at him in a strange way.  
If you know how much I could taste a thing like you…  
They entered the room and Sean leaned against the door, hoping the floor stopped moving.   
He breathed to steady himself and saw Henri standing in front of him, his face wet with transpiration, his mouth open in a silent plea.  
Henri put his palms on the door so Sean was enclosed between his arms. Their faces moved close, little by little.  
Henri was in a turmoil, he never had experienced something like that before, never though to be attracted to a man in such a way.  
The words of the dean resounded in his ears. Sodomy is a sin.  
He didn't care, he was lost in Sean's eyes.   
It was not friendship or comraderie or working relationship, it was desire, pure desire, the same he had felt for Charlotte.  
Sean hated to kiss or be kissed, in his London nights he never allowed his lovers kisses or caresses, only wanted a fast intercourse and nothing more, at the Maison the no kissing rule was perfect, this time the need to feel Henri’s mouth was too intense to be denied.   
They kissed, hard, mouth open, gasping for breath.  
Henri leaned against Sean, wanting to feel his body, to pin him against the wood, grinding hard with his hips and feeling Sean move in synchrony.  
He had to touch him, he slide a hand under Sean’s jacket, fond the buttons of the shirt and opened it, quite ripping the fabric. He moved fast, wanting to feel skin; when he found an undershirt, strange laces, like a corset; he managed to untie it, half ripping half parting, to reach Sean’s chest and found a soft breast, a hardened nipple.  
A step back, looking at Sean, confusion in his eyes.  
“You aren’t ….”  
“I’m …”  
Henri’s hands went lower, unbuttoned the trousers and searched for something hard, and found nothing, the undergarment fabric was wet and his fingers touched a round mount of Venus.   
Sean grabbed Henri’s face with his palms and looked into his questioning eyes.  
“I’m a woman…my real name is Saga.”  
It was enough to drive Henri crazy, he lifted Saga up and throw her on the bed, hurriedly getting rid of the shirt to expose her torso. He went down on the breasts, licking and sucking, Saga moaned under him, lost in new sensations, spreading her leg to accommodate Henri better.  
It was better then at the Maison, much better, because they were Saga and Henri this time, not fake wigs and fake names, they were friends becoming lovers.  
Henri had no time to process the revelation, he'd thought about it later, for now he was too busy in getting off of his clothes.   
Saga arched her back to slide the trousers from her legs and lift up to help Henri take off his shirt in a frenzy motion; Henri trousers soon followed.  
They were almost naked when Saga put a hand on his chest and reached for her bag on the chair.  
“I need my protection.”  
“What?”   
Saga took a small bag and opened it; inside, a round piece of rubber.  
“This is used to avoid children. Have you never see it? It’s a new invention.”  
Henri looked curious.  
“I know the girls of Madame Marie uses vinegar to wash themselves, but I never imagined something like this.”  
Henri had completely forgotten the notion they could take that risk, it was a man he believed to desire until a few minutes ago. He watched her gestures to put the device in place and noticed how she was completely shaved; Charlotte was the same, what a coincidence.  
He felt his desire growing again and buried his face between Saga's leg, then moved up along her torso until they were face to face.  
Saga's hands roamed over his back, Henri slide into her, slowly at first, then increasing his pace, until they both found their release.


	9. Chapter 9

CH 9

Henri woke up when the light of dawn filtered through the window panel.   
He was lying on his back, something warm and heavy on his chest; he opened his eyes and saw the body next to him, short blond hair, a thin arm draped over him.  
Then he remembered, Sean’s body, the body of a woman, Saga, how they kissed and touched and had sex with a fury that both excited and scared him.   
Then Saga fell asleep, exhausted and a little drunk, and Henri remained awake to look at her until the lamp went off.  
It was the first time after Alice that he had spent the entire night with a woman, the brothel was an hour of escape from the world and nothing else, this intimacy was powerful and mysterious at the same time.  
Henri had to use the bathroom and disentangled from Saga, covering her frame with the sheet; when he returned she was awake, propped up on the pillows, wearing her shirt.  
“You owe me a long explanation. It was a shock to see you naked.”   
“I was born in a wealthy family, my father was Swedish and had a trading enterprise between England and Sweden, that expanded quickly and he become very rich. My mother was mentally disturbed, she abused physically of me and my little sister, Jennifer. My father was absent and I could rely only on Hans, a cousin of my mother. With his help I had my mother separated from Jennifer but for my sister it was too late, she killed herself at 14 years old. My mother and her brother William caused the death of my father in an horse accident, I found proofs against her. A year ago she committed suicide in prison.”  
Henri was upset.  
“This doesn’t explain why you pretend to be a man.”   
“I've always been different from the other women. I never aimed to became a wife and mother. I wanted to be a detective like uncle Hans and he tried to dissuade me. But in the end he agreed, so I become Sean Noren to the world.”  
“And nobody ever suspected?”   
“I don’t let people get close to me. I don’t want to be hurt again like my family did”.  
“And me? Why me?”   
“Because I had to have you. I couldn't resist.”  
“I wanted you, too, the idea of going with a man was at first absurd, but I was getting mad for you. I was once with a girl of Madame and saw your eyes, not hers. I'm so glad you're a woman, if our first time is so good it can only get...”  
“It isn’t our first time.”  
“What?”  
Saga changed her voice and started a verse.  
How do I love thee?  
Let me count the ways.  
“Charlotte?”  
She nodded. “I paid Madame to be with you. When I saw you with that woman, I had to.”  
“And I took you there… what a foolish thing.”  
Now all the signals he noticed had a common answers, the eyes, the pale skin, the shaving; how could he missed them.  
“Well, we are here now, are you still a fool?”  
“Oh no, not at all...well.. maybe a little jealous, you in the brothel, other men looking at you.”  
“I was there just one night, I’m not....”  
Henri's hand moved lower and started working on Saga.  
“Is the protection still inside?”  
She answered positive; they were late for breakfast.

 

They left the hotel still in a confused state of mind; they talked about the case only while walking first to the station to report Duprè and then to Saint Louis.  
Henri was stupefied the all-professional colleague at his side was the same woman with whom he had spent a night of true pleasure with.   
The church was mostly gothic, partially modified during the centuries; it stood proudly in the most elegant area of Troyes.   
Sean and Henri reached the altar and entered in the sacristy; an old man was putting away sacred vestments, folding them with care.   
“Police. We need to talk with the priest.” Henri introduced himself; the man trembled a little and leaned on the table he used to fold the items.   
“Which priest?”  
“How many there are?” Sean asked.  
“Three, our chaplain, father Marcel, his assistant Antoine and Julien, who arrived here two months ago. “  
“The chaplain.”  
The old man knocked at a door on the opposite wall - well hidden in the dark wood covering all the sides of the room - and the detectives were admitted in a larger room with the same black furniture; a large desk stood in the middle, behind it father Marcel.  
The sacristan introduced the detectives.  
“Inspector Sabrè and ...” Sean interrupted immediately him.   
“Sean Noren, Scotland Yard.”  
Henri informed of Hubert’s death and Father Marcel did solemnly the sign of the cross.   
“I didn't know he was dead, I was in Auvergne for my annual meditation, without newspapers. It's an important loss for this community, Hubert was a benefactor of the church.”   
“But he lived in England.” Henri did the questioning, Sean concentrated on the man.  
“He was here very often, he liked France a lot. He'd like to move here permanently.”  
Father Marcel was speaking keeping a hand on his chin, partially covering his mouth and avoiding eye contact with Henri.  
His words were selected carefully, an artifice probably useful for the chaplain of an important parish.  
Henri obtained no useful information to his numerous questions and they left the room deeply unsatisfied.   
The sacristy was empty and they returned to the church, the old man they had addressed earlier was cleaning the seats in a side chapel, under the statue of the virgin Mary.   
Sean whispered Henri he was sure father Marcel was lying, Henri agreed with him but stopped near the statue.   
The old man stilled the cloth he was using and stood up, looking at the detectives, his gaze moving from Sean to Henri, showing nervousness.   
Henri noticed the gesture and whispered Sean there was something strange.   
“Let me try.”  
“Good. I'll stay here, you're better than me with people.”.  
Henri took a coin from his pocket and let it fell in the offer box, then took a candle from the shelf and lit it in front of the statue.   
The old man passed a dusty hand over his worn out vest, moving closer to Henri.  
“I heard father Marcel.”   
He was older than at first sight, without lower teeth, a face full of wrinkles, but with two eyes that showed a good soul.  
“When?”  
“Talking with you. There is a small device, a little tube, to hear what happens in his office if you stay in the service room behind this altar, he doesn't know about it.”  
Henri called Sean to come closer.  
“I m here most of the day, I know father Marcel and when people come for him sometimes I listen. Our beloved father Andrè, who is very ill and confined to bed, never trusted Marcel. He asked me to take care of his church,”  
“So you are spying father Marcel?” Sean asked  
“Oh no, I feel the devil is in this church and we will be all corrupted by money.”   
“How your belief is linked to our case?” Sean had the impression they were loosing time  
“I remember well Hubert, he’s often here to confess his sins to father Marcel. But they spoke in the office, not in the confessional.”   
“Which sins?” Henri took again control of the questioning.  
“He was a cruel man, he tool pleasure in punishing people. He had contacts with orphans and poor children, he worked in schools or similar place and he inflicted corporal punishments.”  
“And why he talked with father Marcel?”  
“To be absolved, he gave him money for the church and to buy himself peace.”  
Leaving the church for the train station, Saga pointed out Father Marcel was a liar like Madame Favre.   
“Same gestures, same attitude. We need to ask Duprè to keep an eye on him.”


	10. Chapter 10

CH 10

A telegram from Linn Brown to Saga Noren and a police dispatch from Hans Peterson for Inspector Noren were delivered in Rue d’Argenton early in the morning; Henri has asked Sean to move in with him, so Bertrand, his sergeant, knew where to find the English inspector.  
The official reason was Sean's stay in Paris becoming too long to rely on impersonal hotels, the truth was that together they could better hide their relationship, no need of frantic coupling having to part for the night, no fear to be seen by curious eyes.   
Their closeness had to remain a secret with everyone, especially at work; Saga never had an intimate affair with a colleague, neither with a man she knew before: her casual pick ups in London were always complete strangers and she wanted darkness in the black carriage not to reveal her face.  
Saga liked to read in Henri's study after dinner, they used to eat there, it was more intimate than the larger room on the front; then Henri would clean the table and add logs to the fire, while his lover rested on the couch, clad in a white shirt and black trousers, completely engrossed in some books.   
Her blonde hair had reflects from the flames and her cheeks were pink with the heat from the fire;  
Henri could spend hours simply staring at her, he was afraid to admit to himself that something deep was happening, his past still haunting him.   
Henri passed the envelopes to Saga with a cup of coffee, she briefly read the first and furrowed her forehead.   
“Two murders in London, former parents in law of Helen Anger. Gory deaths. Missing brain. Need you here with French police.”  
Henri called Lagrange while Saga packed up bags and they took a train to Calais an hour later.   
Saga had opened the second telegram without telling Henri about the content, only stating she had to contact Linn. 

From the train station Sean and Henri took the tube to Scotland Yard; the building was impressive, also in comparison to the French police headquarters.   
Hans welcomed them briefly, sending them soon to the murder place.  
“They have been killed in their sitting room, probably late in the evening, Rhys’ assistant left before dinner and the maid discovered the bodies the morning after. “  
“Was the house deserted?” Saga had already a series of questions  
“The first maid had her free evening, she spent the night at her sisters house cook left around nine, the young maid was sleeping.”   
“So she was in the house?”   
“It is quite impossible she is the killer. She had an hysterical attack when she found the bodies and when you'll see the scene you'll understand. In my opinion it’s a man’s work. We’ll discuss this opic again.”  
Dismissed, Sean and Henri reached Chambers street from Sloane Square; a policeman was outside the house, people walking by casted glances at the house, Sean heard two men telling the house was cursed.  
According from the information Hans gave them, Ieuan Rhys was an ex officer of royal navvy who left service after a serious injury sailing to Australia and started a trading business.   
His younger son married Helen Anger in his mid twenties and divorced after the scandal; he was in the navvy, too, currently in the Atlantic ocean.   
The crime scene apparently was calm and peaceful, the couple was sit on two opposite chairs near the fireplace, Ryhs wore a hat but no coats. Candles all consumed were scattered all around.   
“Hans said to be careful in removing the hat.” Henri stated.  
“Photos had been taken and forensics will remove the bodies when we leave,”   
Sean took the hat with both hands and slowly lifted it.   
The bare brain appeared with a circular precise cut.   
Over the brains he found two dried bulbs.   
Henri said something in strict French, probably an imprecation.   
“I bet they are Hubert's.” He commented after the initial shock.  
“We must ask if he had green eyes, but it is not so common nor in France neither in England so I think you're right.”   
“Hans said to question the assistant.”   
A young man with curled brow hair was sitting behind a mahogany desk in the office of Rhys trading company in Parkington Street, Kensington area.   
He stood up and welcomed the detectives  
“Emil Lewis.”  
“Sean Noren, Scotland Yard and inspector Sabrè from Paris. Can we talk in private?”  
Sean pointed at the other four clerks.   
Emil lead them to Rhys’ private office, where Sean started the questioning.  
“For long have you worked here?”   
“3 years.”  
“You went to the Rhys’ house the afternoon of the homicide?”   
“I had to see Mr. Rhys, there were papers to be signed. Mr. Rhys suffered a leg accident that left him limping and when he had strong pains he was unable to walk.”   
“Who was in the house when you left?”   
“Mr and Mrs Rhys, cook and Jeanne, the young maid. I know because I took the tea tray to the kitchen.”   
“Where did you go after leaving?”   
“Home, then I went to a pub for a pint and talked with some people there.”   
Meanwhile Henri was scanning the room, meanwhile, taking note of the navvy memorabilia.  
“Name of the pub?”  
“The White Sheep, up Notting Hill.”  
“Your usual?”   
“I pick up between three. I’m nota regular.”  
“We want to see the private and business correspondence.”  
Emil took two folders from the first drawer and handed them to Sean.  
“These are the most recent letters.”  
The detectives opened the folders at the station and started to writing the report, Sean ordered a constable to go to The White Sheep to verify Emil’s alibi.  
“The Gibraltar reference!” Henri suddenly blurted out from the opposite side of the desk.  
“What?” Saga asked  
“The model of the ships were in a glass shrine under the window.”  
Henri had observed them and linked the names to the commercial routes on a large map on the wall. There was a regular service to Gibraltar, where the son of Helen disappeared.

 

Linn had instructed the staff to prepare the house for the return of Sean together with a French colleague.  
She was controlling the accounts when a carriage stopped; it was quite dark if not for the street lamps. A tall man went down, then turned around to open the other door, offering his hand to somebody inside.   
It happened very fast, the hand contact was very short, but Linn get suspicious when Sean's hand and green coated arm appeared, and she become concerned when the two figures stood still for a few seconds, looking at each other on the sidewalk.   
The man paid the carriage and Sean let him do it without protesting. Sean Noren would never behave in such a way.   
The couple opened the iron gate and walked the five steps to the entrance; Linn at the door before they had to knock.  
“Welcome home.”  
“Good evening Linn. This is my colleague, Henri Sabrè.”  
“Mister Sabrè, welcome.”  
“We are tired and hungry, we need to refresh and then dinner.”  
“I'll inform cook immediately, dinner for two. Your rooms are already prepared.”  
Linn moved her gaze from her master to the guest, noticing how much they were standing close without touching, and the way the Frenchman looked at Sean.  
She hoped her first impression was right and that her master has finally found someone.  
“We'll be in my study, this way, Henri.”  
They entered the room and Linn heard Henri appreciating the huge amount of books in display from the floor to the ceiling  
“It is my private collection.”   
“You did read each of these books?”   
“I started at an early age.”  
“You're truly amazing.”  
It was a personal conversation and Linn felt a little embarrassed, so she was retracting to her parlour when Sean called for her; her master attitude was indeed different and the confirmation she received made Linn happy after a very long time.  
“Henri doesn’t need the guest room.”  
“I'm glad you informed me, should I in any case manage it like if it is used? Just to be sure...”  
“Yes Linn. I trust you.” 

 

The morning after Saga had a meeting with Morland and Palmer, her solicitors, related to the telegram she received in Paris.   
Warren Palmer, a thin man in his sixties, with a bald head and small glasses, received her in the narrow room in Inn’s Court, full of books up to the celing.  
“We have a serious problem, Miss Noren. Your mother only surviving brother, William Ransom, produced a letter, a code to your mother will. It is you mother writing, we have already made a research with a graphologist.”  
“Tell me about it.”  
“Do you remember you father’s will? He created a trust for you, you received his shares but the income also of the shares of your mother, it was a complicate instruments he used to give you the benefits of Noren Ltd. The trust was set for 20 years and it will expire in less than two years, as soon as you reach the age of 40. Your father knew that the majority of shares belonged to your mother, and after her death we opened her will. But your uncle has now find a code, written before she killed herself. The code says the if you don’t have a legitimate heir before you’re 40, her quotes of Noren Ltd will go to your uncle.”  
“It is impossible for me to have a child!”  
Palmer tried to calm her.  
“Technically, it’s possible.”  
“I don’t want a child!”  
He offered Saga a glass of water, then stood at the window, letting Saga absorb the full impact of the code.  
“The problem is not wanting, but needing.”  
“I’m already 38.”  
“I told you it was on purpose, but we cannot prove it.”  
“A legitimate heir can be an adopted child?”  
“No, the code prevents it, like children of a previous marriage of a husband. It has to be yours by birth.”


	11. Chapter 11

CH 11

Saga returned home in rage and fury: her mother was still controlling her life from the grave, wanting to dominate her.  
Linn passed her a note from Hans with the request to go at the station as soon as possible; they met in the entrance hall, Hans already wearing hat and coat.   
He passed her the report that confirmed Emil Lewis was at the pub the evening of the killing.  
“We have to go to Wimbledon. The carriage is already here. Lord Anger wants to speak with us, he asked an urgent meeting.”  
“I have to explain Henri how we work here, he’s waiting for me.”  
“I’ve don’t it myself, he’s writing Rhys’ report now. We have to go.”   
Hans looked more carefully at Sean.” Where were you? You are distressed.”  
“I'm fine.”  
“No you aren’t, I know you, I need you on the case with all your strength or not at all.”  
In the privacy of the closed carriage Sean told Hans about the meeting with the solicitor.  
“I never imagine your mother still could haunt you. I’m ashamed to be her cousin.”  
“You’re good. The stake is too much to let them win, but I don’t know what to do.”   
“Saga, you're a woman, although you choose to hide it and live a different life. Is it impossible that during all these years you never found a man to love and with whom to have a family?”  
She looked at Hans for a long time, refusing to share her secret. Linn and John were the only people aware of the dark dress and the East End nights; Sean realised since Saga met Henri those nights had stopped, naturally.  
“The colleague I’m working with, Henri. We had sex, he knows me as Saga and Sean.”

Lord Anger received the detectives in his orchard while attending to the roses in large vases, cutting branches and dried flowers; he wasted no time in pleasantries and formal introductions, his arrogant side all the more evident  
“Years ago my daughter had an affair with a married man. I told her to stop it, she refused,   
not caring to loose her annual income from our family. He was a Spanish diplomat, wanted to divorce and marry Helen but he got pregnant both his wife and my daughter around the same time. When I discovered it, i took the situation in my hands and sent Helen in Ireland with her friend Louise. She was angry with that man and felt betrayed, she never wanted to see him again.  
Sean stopped him.  
“Louise who?”   
“Louise Roberts, now Mrs. Thompson, they were friend since Mrs. Bolton - Granger Academy.”  
“We have confirmation about this friendship. Do continue.”  
“When the baby was born, I left him in an orphanage. Helen soon married a lieutenant of the royal navvy and never expressed desire to see her son. “  
Lord Anger started making regular visits to the child in Belfast, never revealing the parentage, until the boy was around ten and went to a military academy. Visits become les frequent until at 15 the cadet was sent to Gibraltar with his regiment. In their correspondence, the young man hinted he’d return to Ireland, but after a few letters Lord anger received no more replies. 

 

Henri was astonished when he heard from Saga about the will; they were in the library and Saga showed the documents from her solicitor.   
Henri was tired, after a day writing in another language, with different police procedures.   
“It is crazy! It cannot be true.”  
Henri stood up and started pacing the room.  
“It is true. My solicitor and Hans are the only people I trust.”  
“Couldn't you give him the business and live with what you already have?”  
“It is not enough! What I have will last for a few months only, maybe a year. And the people I help, families in serious difficulties I met during my work, children whose education I pay. You have no idea, no idea at all, we talk about hundreds of pounds spent every month.”   
She had to keep her fortune, it was her resource to be independent and continue the life she had choose.  
“I have to find a solution.”  
“You can fake having a baby ... you can buy one.”  
“My uncle wants a medical report in his presence. This time they have really framed me. My family tried to destroy me since I was young, they made Jennifer kill herself. I thought after their death I'd find peace.”   
“I'd help you, if only I knew how.”  
Saga ordered him to sit down, he was getting on her nerves standing beside her, continuing twisting his hands.   
“There is a way, it will be difficult, but there’s a possibility. Hans discussed with me about it.”  
“Tell me.”  
“You fathered a daughter so you're not sterile. Marry me and give me a child. I’ll give you all the money you want in reward.”  
“Do you think I'll ask you money?”   
“It is easier to see it as a business transaction.”  
“I m not selling myself or a child for money. You should know me better.”  
Henri stood up, how could Saga ask him the very thing he missed the most in such an aseptic and practical way.  
“I imagine you'd feel trapped in such a situation... every man would feel the same.”  
“Saga, we are living the most confused life I've ever imagined. Do you think I'd agree? You mean a lot to me, but I'm not a stud for your service. I’m going to a hotel tonight.”   
Henri headed for the door, Saga stopped him before he reached it.  
“Henri stay, if I offended you I sincerely apologize.”  
“People murmur behind my back because I'm always with a man. I cannot treat you in public like a man can do to his woman. My neighbours think I'm a pervert since you live with me. I hear they whispering at my back, their looks. Maybe I endure such things because I simply love you?” ”  
Saga was astonished hearing such a declaration, Henri took his jacket and left, Saga heard his steps down the stairs.   
Saga had just lost the only man she could trust to save her life.  
He said he loves me, Saga thought.   
The revelation hit her hard.

Henri had not slept at all, walking until dawn along the Thames.  
The proposal had left him shocked and he had to calm his mind.  
It was not possible that Saga did not saw how deep their relationship was, he'd give her a dozen of children if only she admitted her feelings.   
His first marriage had been a complete mistake, he was a young policeman confused by the charming Alice Bouet and his parents liked the prestige to be linked with the richest family of Rouen..  
Then came the suspicion Alice had flirted with another man, someone not suitable for her family. Little signs that become more and more evident: Alice was always in the company of one of her relatives, in her house or outside, her mother showed a desire to have Henri for dinner every evening, Alice's father, Pierre, become close with Henri’s and lent him money to support the family business that was close to bankruptcy.  
But Henri thought to be in love, he wanted a family, wanted children and in two months he had a ring on his finger. Her parents bought them a house, hired a maid, gave Alice a monthly income.  
Soon after the marriage Alice started going out with her female friends and she received various letters at home; Henri had a difficult case and was often at work, Alice was free and Henri soon felt trapped.  
The worst moment was when Alice told him she was expecting, six weeks after the marriage:   
was the baby his?   
They had spent the honeymoon in the Bouet's house in Honfleur. The first night he believed she was a virgin, her clumsy reaction to the intercourse, the discomfort at first and the little blood; they had made love often during those two weeks, spent all time together, seldom leaving the house.  
Henri started counting the weeks of the pregnancy; he felt paranoic, his detective mind was in full motion; he contacted a private investigator and was reported Alice had been close to a handsome gambler who hurriedly left Rouen around the time Alice went to Paris with her mother and she was introduced to Henri by a common acquaintance.   
Henri calmed when he read the gambler was a creole from Louisiana, whose picture showed a light brown complexion that sure would show up in his offspring.  
A daughter was born nine months and a week after the marriage, pale skin and grey blue eyes like Henri at birth, identical nose that confirmed the paternity without doubts. He called her Astrid like his grandmother, Alice didn’t oppose; she left the baby in the hands of a wet nurse and started again to go out.   
Henri understood the bitter truth: the Bouets had given him a child like a bone to a dog, to keep him quiet and save Alice from a scandal.  
He and Alice grow apart fast, Henri become distant and addicted to work; his only joy the time spent with Astrid. Alice was jealous, she insisted the child had to sleep when Henri arrived late from work and wanted to stay with his daughter.   
Lesson learnt at the highest price, he had caressed the idea of another chance at fatherhood that seemed impossible with Saga and her lifestyle.   
And Saga was offering him money, like everything had a price, including life and love.

 

Sean and Henri went to question Luise Roberts, the closest friend of Helen Anger.  
She was living near Fulham Road and her husband, James Roberts, was an important member of the conservative party; the detectives briefly met him while entering the impressive building the Roberts lived into, one of the most beautiful of the area.   
In the entrance hall they stopped to look at the decorations and paintings on every wall.   
Sean followed the butler to the sitting room and had to call Henri to follow them so rooted to the spot Henri was, fascinated by the display of art around him.   
Mrs Thompson was a thin woman in her mid forties, wearing a blue dress with an immaculate white shirt that reminded Henri of some nuns he saw in Frances.   
“Sean Noren, Scotland Yard and my colleague from Paris.” Sean showed his distinctive.  
“You're here for Helen, aren't you?”  
“We know you have been friends “  
“Yes, for a very long time,. We met at Mrs Bolton – Granger academy for girls. She was the daughter of an earl while my family was from the church, she never pointed out our class differences.”   
“Lord Anger told us about Helen's child.”   
“She was seventeen when she met Miguel. I told her it wasn't a good idea, but she wanted to be in love. A rebellion against her father, I think. Lord anger was very strict.”   
Henri noticed a small table full of portraits in a corner.  
Louise stood up and took one, showing him two young women on a beach.  
“We are.. were still friends. I never understood her way or life or moral code, but it was a special friendship, one where opposites attract.”   
“It is not a scientific rule.” Saga cut off to return to the case. “Did Helen have contacts with her son?”  
“No, never, she was angry at Miguel and passed her rage on the poor boy. That was the hardest part for me, how could she refuse her own child?”   
Saga noticed Henri tensed, they were sat on the same couch and his weight shifted; parenthood was a difficult topic for him.   
“I had the idea to take care of him by himself, placing him in a foster home. I had no money and my parents would oppose.”   
“Lord Anger kept contacts.”  
Louise appeared stupefied at Henri's statement.  
“Where is he now?”  
“We don't know, he was in the army four years ago, then disappeared.”   
Sean questioned Louise about James Roberts. Hans told him there were talks for a role in next government, should the Tories win the elections.  
“Your husband has an increasing role in the party. Does he know about your relationship with Helen?”   
“Yes, he can be a conservative man, but he's a caring person who respects people.”  
Henri looked at Sean, afraid to miss a point.  
“We have to verify if Helen killing can be related to your husband career.”  
“It's impossible, he's a transparent man, I think he's too good for politics.”   
“We’ll set up a protection for you and your husband, too many people connected with Helen Anger are at risk.”


	12. Chapter 12

CH 12

Henri was torn between his need for Saga and the complications that surely would arise from their marriage.  
The money offer was so high that lots of men would without hesitation accept to be bought by a woman and by her fortune; Henri cared a lot about Saga and was deeply concerned about their future together.  
When Hans invited him for lunch to talk he felt relieved; he saw how Hans cared about Saga and he respected the wise man.  
They sat in a private corner of one of pub close to the headquarters and Hans came straight to the point after they ordered a pie and a pint.   
“I have to ask you something very important. Saga must remain unaware about the content of this meeting. I’ve observed you and Saga. I know you feel for her a lot and you’re scared about the situation she is into. I ask you to marry her, to protect her after I'm dead.”  
“Don’t say that, you'll protect her for a long time.”  
“No, Henri, my time is short, months maybe, the doctors are sure. That's why I do hope you agree to the marriage. I’ll feel relieved to know she has you after I' m gone.”   
“I'm sorry, I didn't imagined...” What could he say to a dying man, what words of comfort or hope.  
“It's life. I've had a long and satisfying career, I married a great woman. Now I have to think about those who'll remain. You're a good man, Henri, the best she could hope for.”   
“I'm confused, but I cannot leave her. If I should accept, it will be extremely difficult for both of us. Saga needs to be a detective, she thinks she can manage but I fear it will be impossible.”  
“Sean Noren has been in police for a long time, with excellent reputation and in talk for promotion. I'm sure you'll find a way, remember people can adapt, you can get a leave and later return into service.”  
“But we marry to have an heir, how can she adjust to the child and our work? “  
“You marry because you need each other, first. Linn and the staff will assist you in every practical way. Once a baby is born, you can resume your old life.“

 

“I've decided to accept your request. You are too important for me and I want to help you,”  
“I cannot force you. Better loose all my fortune than hurt you.”  
“I do want to marry you, I' m worried about how to get ourselves out of this situation but I'll never leave. I need you Saga, more than you need me. You've changed my life during these weeks. I was so angry with Alice to refuse relationships until I met you.”  
“Are you sure? Knowing what to have to do to win over my uncle?”   
“I'm sure. We have the help of Hans and Linn. You uncle will have his desired proof and we can live elsewhere for a while.”  
“I own a cottage where nobody knows me.”   
“Perfect, if you want we'll be husband and wife there, then after we'll have a child you'll return to police.”  
“I want to work.”  
“You deserve it. You’re the best detective I've ever met.”

 

Saga and Henri married in a civil ceremony at the register office of Hampsted. Hans and Lillian were the witnesses, her solicitor and Linn the only others attending.   
The bride wore a green dress and matching coat, Henri choose a dark grey suit with a yellow rose in his lapel.  
It was over after ten minutes, they exchanged two simple rings, signed the papers and the official shook their hands.   
They moved to Saga’s house where Linn had prepared a small party for a selected group of guests, including some of the neighbourhoods.  
There was curiosity to the house and its owner, a woman so reserved and seldom seen in the environs; Linn knew all the guests and she stood behind Saga and Henri all time, whispering the surnames when shaking hands.  
They had to pretend everything was normal so that her uncle would never had suspicions.  
Everything was going well, Saga tried to be calm and accept the congratulations from the guests, always keeping them at arm's length and minimizing every contact, when the front door opened and a tall man with a brown coat entered.  
Conversation stopped and Saga went pale recognizing her uncle, Hans moved to her side and cast a worried glance to Henri.  
William Ransom had made his spectacular entrance, just the way he planned; he wanted to be the centre of attention and waited a little before speaking.  
“I was sure no Englishman of good sense would have agreed to marry a freak of nature like you. You got a Frenchman. Strange people, vicious and pervert. I wonder if he is really a man. We should ask an examination for him too.”  
“French people are not all so.” Lillian spoke aloud, everyone looked at her, glad to shift focus from the unwelcomed presence.   
Lillian moved from her position near the window to the middle of the room, to face William.   
“I suggest you to think about your words, I’m French and I dare you to find who thinks I'm such an horrible person. My sons are French, too, and are doctors here with an excellent reputation, they work to save life.”   
She paused and felt the silent approval by the other guests.  
“You are not welcomed here. Now leave this house immediately or every gentlemen present will help me getting you out of here.”  
William retreated, still angry and refusing to admit his defeat; he shouted a last menace  
“It's not over. We'll see if they respect the code and then I'll be the one to send them out of this house.”  
The door slammed behind him and silence followed.  
Hans refilled champagne and proposed a toast.   
“To Saga and Henri!”  
People lifted glasses and the chatting resumed, Saga only wet her lips, she was visibly distressed and Linn whispered something in her hear; Saga nodded.  
“There is a domestic problem that requires my attention.” She excused from the guests and   
left with Linn toward the library, Henri tried to follow but Hans stopped him,  
“Let Lillian go with her, Saga's too upset and we must entertain the guests, her uncle did a damage, we must cover up.”  
They mixed between the guests, Henri casting frequent glances at the library door.  
When Saga reappeared he breathed with relief and went to her, to propose the last toast  
“To my beautiful bride, I do hope to be the husband you deserve.”  
Saga noticed he put the glass to his lips but didn't drink.   
People started to thanks and leave the house, the Peterson remained for dinner.  
After the main course Saga went upstairs; Hans and Lillian exchanged a glance and decided to let the new couple alone. Henri helped with their coats and noticed how thin Hans was getting.   
“It has been hard for Saga today, her mother and uncle were evil with her since she was a child. And her father was too weak to protect Jennifer and saga.”  
“I imagine, Hans.”  
“Please don't hurt her, that's the only thing I ask you.”  
Lillian left with a brief kiss on Henri's cheek, whispering him she had attempted a sort of mother daughter talk about the first wedding night and Saga explained her it was futile. 

Henri thanked Linn, dismissed the staff, turned all the lamps off and poured himself an inch of brandy, the only alcohol he allowed himself for the day; he sat on the couch and took off his jacket while savouring slowly the liquor, before heading for the stairs.   
Their bedroom door was partly ajar and he knocked in respect before entering.   
Saga was sit at the small desk, her face toward the window, wearing a white silk robe that matched her pale face.   
Henri thought for a moment that she was a ghost.  
He called her name and she stood up, moving toward the bed like in a trance, keeping her gaze on everything except him.   
The covers were already back and she sat on her side, opening her garment and letting it fall on the floor.   
Naked, she lied on the bed, spreading her legs.   
Such an invitation would have Henri accept with no hesitation in the past, but he felt sick.  
She didn't want him, nor as her lover neither as her husband; she felt obliged to submit to a cruel plan that could destroy both.   
Henri approached the bed.   
“Are you coming?” Saga asked, looking at the ceiling.  
“No.”   
He answered gently, grabbing the sheet to cover her, his gaze lingering on her body, his hand trembling.  
“Not this way, not this time. It is our wedding night, it is supposed to steam from love and desire, not from something sordid and forced. I'm not going to look into our child's eyes and tell him I had to perform a rape on his mother to give him life. He doesn't deserve this and we don't deserve it either.”   
“Maybe my uncle is right and I am indeed a freak of nature.”   
“You're the most intelligent mind I've ever met, the cleverest investigator. You're too good to start doubting yourself.”  
“You're partial. Your judgement is confused by our partnership.”  
“And you're the only woman I want to be in a partnership with. Soon we’ll leave for Paris, back to our life and our work and away from your uncle and his traps.”  
“We cannot delay too much...”  
“We will take care of that matter, trust me, but not tonight.”  
He gave Saga her gown back, swiftly got undressed and wore his own night vest, then he entered the bed and took his wife into his arms. He felt her accepting his presence and relax little by little.  
“Good night, my love.” He whispered to her sleeping form.

 

Hans received a report from Dublin the day after the wedding, complete with details about john Brown, as the bow had been called. Total anonymity, Hans thought to ask Sean how much people of the same name lived in London only. The report confirmed what lord Anger said, Helen's son left the army after a five year military service in Gibraltar and lived in Dublin for a short period of time, working in a transportation firm. He had experience in the infirmary of the regiment and the head doctor recommended him for a nursing career but he never applied to medicine schools.  
Sean pointed out that the way the bodied had been mutilated could well fit with the previous experience.   
“Do we have a description?” Henri asked.   
“No, he’s a common young man aged 23, from what we know. Medium height, brown hair, he could be everyone.”  
The traces of John Brown disappeared after he left his work place and the rented room he had at a guest house near the Dublin docks.   
“He could have embarked in a ship”, Henri proposed. “Lots of destination to choose from.”   
“We need to search in shipping companies. I think he'd use a fake name. If he is killing people he's around now, here or France. We need to concentrate on business that could require frequent travels between our countries. Let's make a list.”   
“I want to ask his former employers if they have regular lines between France and British isles. I'm   
quite sure they have between Ireland and France, I saw in Le Havre their ships.”


	13. Chapter 13

CH 13

The more the train approached Dover, the better Sean felt; London was becoming too difficult to live in.  
He had managed to be police for many years but the public exposure Saga endured with the marriage implied too many risks.  
Paris offered more anonymity, he and Henri could buy a secluded place where to live as a family, away from their life as detectives and moreover Paris was opposite London in judging close friendship between two men.  
They arrived at Dover and headed for the harbour; Sean stopped at the post office to send telegrams and Henri busied himself looking at some shops along the road.  
He did not noticed the man who started following him as soon as he had left the station building.  
Henri’s usual police skills were not clever as usual, the events of the last few days too poignant to make him aware of being pursued.  
So Henri mirrored in a window the gun and the short man with a big beard when it was too late; he had the instinct to throw himself down and get his gun from the inside pocket but before he could shoot he felt a sudden pain in his right leg.  
He got the man in an arm with his second shot and then fainted.  
The people on the street run away and the man escaped with the confusion, someone called for a doctor, another for the police.  
Sean heard three shots and his instincts alerted, he reached the sidewalk and saw a group of people around fifty meters from him; he took off the distinctive and run toward them.  
“Sean Noren, Scotland Yard, go away, there can be dang....”  
Then he saw the body, the familiar blue coat and dark hair, a leg covered in blood.  
“Henri!”  
He pushed away with rage a man standing too close to Henri and knelt beside him, grabbing his own scarf to pass it around the injured leg to stop the bleeding.  
“Call a doctor!” Sean shouted to the crowd.  
“He's coming,” a woman answered, “my son went to get him.”  
Sean passed a hand under Henri's neck to support his head, relieved when he heard his cry of pain.  
“What happened?”  
“A man with a beard shot me, I fired back at him....in the arm I think.”  
“A thief?”  
“No, he followed me, I’m sure ....I hope he didn't see you.”  
The crowd parted to let a man with a large black bag pass through.  
“I'm a doctor, let me see.”

 

In his practice, the doctor removed the bullet, cleaned up and sutured the wound, applied bandages and gave laudanum for the night and two crutches.  
“It will hurt a lot, you should go to hospital.”  
“No, I don’t want to go there.”  
“Inspector Noren, your colleague is stubborn.”  
“Sean, no!”  
Sean and Henri exchanged glances when the doctor turned his back to them, Sean nodded in acceptance; they were sure William Ransom sent a killer; Henri did not want to go to hospital; maximum alert was necessary.  
“I'll take care of him tonight. I'll get a hotel room.”  
“As you wish. He'll get fever, keep him hydrated. If there are more problems, call me, this is my address.”  
The vigil seemed interminable for Saga, she sat on a chair beside the bed, Henri could not sleep and clang to Saga 's arm, leaving her with marks; his forehead was hot and Saga gave him water, Henri dozed off around midnight, Saga read all the case note until the lamp died and she closed her eyes.  
Henri woke up from his fractured sleep after dawn and saw Saga's head on the sheets near his hip.  
“Come here. Just lay beside me.” He invited her and took her right hand, the one where their ring was.  
“How do you feel?”  
“The worst has passed, I think. It still hurts a lot but I can manage.”  
“Good. Try to sleep a little more.”

 

Henri woke up again around eight, he didn't move to avoid disturbing Saga, caressed her bare arm and planted a soft kiss on the blonde hair. The memories of the shooting were vivid in his head and he wondered how in danger they were: in Paris as detectives they could be safer, but what could happened if they did conceive a child?  
Would Saga and the unborn be in danger?  
The code asked for a child by birth, but what after? Should the child die later? And if William planned to kill their new born just for cruelty?  
Henri had to uncover that man and fast; his plan was to lure the killer to Paris, where their chances would be more.  
Her decided to keep this course of action to himself for the moment, Saga was troubled enough.  
The doctor come in the afternoon to check his patient and was pleased to hear from Sean that Henri ate a plate of soup at lunch.  
“We need to leave for France” Sean insisted, “When he will be able to travel?”  
“The day after tomorrow, if you re in such a hurry he could leave tomorrow, but at your risk.”  
Another day in Dover seemed eternal.  
Sean returned to the post office to alert Linn and Hans; Henri felt his stomach clench for the whole time he remained alone, his gun on the bedside table.  
They ate a more nutrient dinner with chicken and vegetables from the hotel kitchen.  
Saga was happy Henri showed appetite; later she helped him for the night, the short walk to the bathroom with the crutches seemed a long path.  
“It's the movement that hurts. I must learn to use my arms and shoulders or tomorrow it will be too painful.”  
Henri insisted to use the crutches, pacing the room, to gain confidence.  
“We cannot reach Paris in a day.”  
Sean arranged the pillows and readjusted the bed.  
“I want to try. If it is too painful for me we'll stop half way.”  
“Good. Paris is a safer place.”  
“I'll have to go to the Marie to get the transcription of the marriage act; you'll have to come with me as my wife, you know that, don't you?”  
“I'll come. I've ordered Linn to sent some of my female clothes to Paris.”  
“Clever woman. I like to see you dressed as a woman, you know.”  
“I know. Try to sleep now, tomorrow will be a long day.”

 

In her dream Saga was running in a waste field, she wanted to reach Henri on a hill at the end of the field but the hill was getting more and more distant; someone was chasing her with horses and dogs, then a river appeared, too deep to cross and no bridges around.  
The pursuer was closer, Saga had her back to the river and saw the figure coming, until she was grabbed at her neck and she woke up in the dark room screaming.  
For a moment she had no idea where she was, then she felt Henri's hand on her arm; she turned on the lights.  
“What's wrong?”  
“A bad dream.” Saga pulse was racing.  
“You're trembling.”  
“It will pass”  
“Come here.”  
Henri opened his arms and Saga settled into; slowly her tremors subsided and her heartbeat returned to normal.  
“Better now?”  
It was nice to be so close, to breath the scent of Henri’s cologne; Saga snuggled in his embrace and impulsively Henri planted a kiss on her mouth.  
Saga looked at him then kissed back, once, twice, her mouth demanding until Henri opened his and their tongues met.  
Saga hands roamed over his chest, his arms, his shoulders.  
She was burning inside, since the shooting she needed him, her desire increased by the fear of loosing him, by the recognition she was in love for the first time in her life.  
He responded quickly to her ministrations, when her hand moved lower he was already hard.  
“I want you.” she whispered.  
“Straddle over me, it's the only way we can.”  
She lifted up the hem of her night gown, undressed Henri and do as instructed.  
The light from the window against her white garment was enough to see her pale skin, the shape of her body and the roundness of her breasts.  
Henri was fascinated by her boldness, by the way she initiated their coupling; it was what he hoped for, to let her decide freely when and where.  
She lowered herself so that he could slide into her, then she remained still, savouring the sensation to be filled in every part of her body.  
His hips instinctively gave a brief thrust and they started moving in unison, Saga hand on his shoulders to support her while Henri grabbed her hips to keep her close.  
He could not last long, he was ready so he touched her bud lightly, enough to make her scream with pleasure.  
He let himself go and spilled into her, just before she collapsed over him.

Madame Marie was surprised when Saga asked to meet her.  
“It has been a long time.”  
“I was in London for a case.”  
“With Monsieur Henri?”   
“Yes, and since you know my real sex, me and Henri had married.”  
Madame's face was priceless.  
“Ma cherie, you deprived me of one of my favourite customers, but I’m really happy for you both.”   
“I need your help again.”  
She explained Henri's dramatic past, Alice's death and the search for Astrid.   
“During my investigation I discovered the house where Alice was found is a shelter for homeless people and is close to some brothels. I m sure you can help me in finding Henri's daughter. I'll be very generous for useful info.”   
“I need every detail you can give me.”  
“I'll write them. Never use my real name or reveal my connection with Henri. I want complete discretion.”  
“Don't worry, I'd never survived till my age without being extremely careful.”


	14. Chapter 14

CH 14 

A few days after their conversation, Sean found an envelope on his office desk from Madame, requiring a urgent meeting.  
Sean entered the brothel from the main street door, as Madame instructed her to do during the day.   
“I've find something. Madame Ludmila, a Russian refugee who owns another maison, says a group of people use boys and girls to pickpocket tourists and pedestrians on the grand boulevards. The kids know lots of tricks and they escape often police, they are always two. She is sure there is a organization behind.”  
“Police is aware of this situation.”  
“Yes, but a house in Rue de la Renelle, at the bottom of the Mount, is used as an entrance and through some inner courts and cellars they reach the buildings you told me about, where the skeleton was.”  
“Good. We need to follow them.”  
“They returns always in daylight because the passages are kept dark.”  
“How can I identify the right girls?”  
“They work at the corner of Rue de Maitre Chanteur, two boys or two girls, you cannot miss them. They are kept starved so you can approach them with food. I’m not sure if monsieur Henri’s enfant is with them.”  
“She has a birth mark on her neck, the shape of a drop. I’ll control it.”  
Sean dressed up as a woman to go unnoticed and sat outside a cafe pretending to read a book and taking notes, a strategic position to observe the desired corner.   
After half an hour she noticed the pickpockets in action, two young girls.   
She used the same cover for two following days and saw again the girls the third day; she left the cafè and went closer with a bag of fresh bread she had bought.   
She put the bag on the pavement and pretended to search something in her purse, all the time eyeing the girls and she felt triumphant when she saw a birth mark on the shorter one.  
It was easy to let the girls steal her bread, Saga had the needed answer. 

“I have something important to tell you. No, I'm not pregnant. Not yet.” Saga added when Henri immediately startled. “But for you it can be the same thing. I've found your daughter.”  
“You found who?”  
“Astrid. I know who she is. A pickpocket on the grand boulevards, she is controlled by pimps who send kids on the streets.”  
“Are you sure? Absolutely sure?”  
“I saw the birth mark on her neck, she has blue eyes and she resembles a lot Alice in the photo you gave me.”  
“How did you trace her?”  
“I used my sources.”  
“How can we get her?”  
“We need to set up a police operation, carefully. If we scare them, they could move the kids and we’ll never find Astrid again. You have to talk with your superior to get his approval.”   
“But where does she live? She is thirteen only, for God’s sake! A pickpocket, my baby forced to steal…”   
“That's all I know for now. There is no point in asking me more. Better we set up the operation where she works, otherwise if we follow her we don’t know with whom we'll end up.”  
Henri's fire of questions seemed to stop, for a while; they were changing for bed and he started again, pretending answers Saga couldn't give him.  
“I've revealed all I know.”  
“But you didn't tell me you were searching!”  
“You asked me to read the case, It’s clear I’m searching. You may stay here asking yourself questions that have no answers, I go out.”  
“Where are you going?”   
“I need fresh air.”  
The Parisian evening was hot and Saga was dressed in trousers and shirt, she took a thin mantel to cover herself.  
The walk did her good, she knew Henri was nervous and would be at home moving in circles like a lion in a cage; a night spent in discussions was useless.   
Then inspiration hit her: she returned home, went into the basement and unlocked her private cellar.   
Their bedroom was dark, Henri’s bed lamp the only source of light.  
“Bonsoir, Monsieur.” she said in her best French “may I come in?”   
Henri was sitting under the window, he got up as soon as she saw Saga dressed as Charlotte; he smiled, she was the most impossible, obstinate and stubborn women he'd ever met, and those were the reasons he wanted her so much.  
So he played her game, because he was lost without her.   
“Bien sur, mademoiselle, you're more than welcome.”  
“I think you're alone and need some company.” She told approaching him.  
“Yours is a very pleasant company.”, he answered, passing his hand on her arm, breathing her scent.   
Then suddenly his lips were on her neck, his hand threw away the wig; he lifted Saga up and made her lay on the bed.  
“No company is better than my colleague wife.” 

 

The operation was not easy, rue du Maitre Chanteur was a lateral of Boulevard Haussman, a crowded commercial street.   
People, carriages, cars, deliveries of goods at every hour during the day.   
Sean wanted a policeman dressed as a mendicant opposite the corner the girls used to be, another on the stairs of a church to control the scene from a vantage point and he .he'd be the one dressed as an old woman selling flowers, walking up and down the boulevard.   
To slow down traffic, they faked a pipe had to be repaired nearby, men at work into the hole would add more confusion to the set.  
Henri had to sit outside a cafè pretending to read a newspaper.  
When the team saw the old lady from the county with white hair and dark clothes, they admired Sean’s ability.  
Durand, the oldest of the team, would be the target, playing the wealthy man ostensibly with a purse in his pocket.  
He'd have to pass along the rue two or three times, to be sure the girls noticed him, holding a package, to appear an easy prey having his hands full.  
The team was in place before noon and the girls were late; Henri was nervous, turning his newspaper again an again without reading a word. He was torn between the desire to see his baby and the fear Saga was wrong.  
They had decided that when Saga would notice the girls approaching: she'd change her plea, switching her offer of roses to one of daisies.   
So when she offered them in a loud voice Henri looked at the street corner and he started to tremble.  
Sean was right: without any doubt Astrid was there..   
He recognized her the way she moved, her posture and her face.   
He wanted to go and hug her but he knew well he had to follow Sean's plan.  
So he waited for Durand to move toward the two girls, slowly, looking at the shops, stopping to control the barometer outside a jewellery.   
The girls changed position to be closer to Durand; Henri crossed the road, timing was crucial. The fake mendicant moved too and Saga put her flowers down.   
Astrid was to be surrounded by every side, with the aim to push her into the large entrance of a court, where a iron gate two meters from the sidewalk would assure to capture her.   
Saga gave the order and they moved in unison; Astrid saw two men and an old woman moving toward her and instinctively turned to get the only way out, on her back, falling against the mendicant, who grabbed her. She twisted herself and got free, falling on the pavement; she tried to pass under Saga legs, keeping a low posture, when another set of arm captured her.   
She tried to escape with all her strength, scratching, kicking, spitting in the face of the man who was holding her without success; his strength was powerful and he was desperate to trap the girl.   
Henri had finally his daughter back in his grasp.

 

Sean - still in his fake clothes - and Henri entered into the interrogation room where Astrid was kept; she turned toward them and tried to run for the door, Henri grabbed her again by the waist and made her sit on the chair opposite Sean's.  
“What’s your name?” Sean asked.  
Silence.  
“How old are you?”  
Astrid turned her head toward the window.  
“Where do you live?”  
No reactions. Francois always told them to be mute with the police, a few weeks in the reformatory and then they would be freed without consequences.  
Sean took a piece of paper and pretended to read from it, then he spoke again.  
“We know your name, Astrid, you're 13 and live in a secluded house on the Montmartre hill.”   
A blink of surprise in Astrid eyes: had those policemen followed her and Jeanne? They could know her house and name, but her age? She pretended she was older with everybody. Saga continued.  
“Your mother's name was Alice and you have not seen her for a long time.”  
The memories of her mother made Astrid forget the instructions from Francois.  
“How do you know her name? She left me, she said she'll never leave!”  
Astrid's anger raised her voice to a pitch.  
She didn’t noticed that the other man in the room, the tall man who had captured her, was crying.  
“Your mother is dead, Astrid, your father name is Henri.”  
“He's dead! Francois told me he died in a horse accident.”  
“Who is Francois?”   
Astrid returned alert. “Nobody.”  
“Is he the man that sends you on the streets, isn’t him?”  
She didn't answered and pulled away when the tall man sat on a chair near hers.   
He spoke and his soft voice touched something inside the girl.   
“You have a birth mark on your neck, left side. As a child you always wanted to hide it with two ponytails. It's like a drop of water, you mother used to say she didn't drink enough before you were born.”  
“How do you know?”   
“Look at me.”   
She turned slowly toward him, meeting her eyes in his.   
“Because I'm your father.”  
“No, he's dead....”  
“I'm here, Astrid. You love to sing and we used to sing together in the evening your favourite lullabies. Do you remember?”   
He started, hesitantly at first, conscious Sean was looking at him.   
“Frere Jacques, Frere Jacques, dormez vous?”   
Astrid remained silent and his voice broke, he was so sure she was his and her refusal to admit it was breaking his heart.   
He turned to Sean whose face was tensed in a way Henri never saw before.  
Then Astrid took Henri’s left arm and lifted the sleeve of his jacket.   
“My father was knifed in his left arm, above the wrist; he had a scar and I asked always him to see how long is was.” Henri unbuttoned his cuff and pulled the shirt back.  
The scar appeared and Astrid was mesmerized by it; she touched the skin all the length of the scar and then looked at Henri with eyes wide open.  
“It's you!”  
Henri embraced his daughter. “I've searched you for so long. I was afraid I'll never see you again.”  
“Francois said you were dead and when mom left I thought my parents abandoned me.”  
“Astrid, your mother didn't leave you, she was killed, her body was found a few weeks ago."


	15. Chapter 15

CH 15 

Henri, Astrid and Saga arrived in Rue d’Argenton late in the afternoon; Saga stopped at the post office to sent Linn a telegram, requiring her presence in Paris.  
Astrid examined the ground floor, touching everything, moving between the rooms; she needed to meet again every object of her past life. She sat on the couch and ate some cakes Henri bought her at the baker’s shop while Henri and Saga retreated in his study to talk in private.  
“How we explain her our relationship?”   
Saga’s question raised a problem Henri had not fully evaluateduntil that moment.  
“Better tell her sooner than later that we are married.” Henri answered, “at dinner I'll explain.”  
“Should I dress as Saga?”   
“No, just take off your fake bust, let her see you're my woman.”  
Astrid ate voraciously what Henri had cooked, she used her hands to grab the food from her plate, she was starving.  
She didn't notice Sean’s appearance was different, too concentrated on the tender duck breast and the white bread; meat was a rarity with Francois.  
After the second portion she lifted her face and saw the two adults were looking at her, amused.  
“What do you want?”   
“You're really hungry.”  
“Francois starved me; he gave me food only if I got a good bag of money for him.”  
“You'll be no more hungry, I promise, me and Sean have all the money to buy you whatever food you like.” “Why you and Sean? Why is he here?”   
“It is something difficult to explain Astrid. You see, Sean is not a man, she is a woman named Saga, she is my wife.”  
“You're married to a man? It’s shameful…. ”   
Astrid let the glass drop.  
“No, no! Saga pretends to be a man when she is a police officer. A woman cannot enter in police. She is a very talented investigator, she fond you.”  
“My family was not loving and caring, Astrid, at you age my life was a hell, so I took a radical decision. Your dad and me are involved with each other and there is nothing sordid in our marriage.”  
“Astrid, this is our secret, please to keep it to yourself, when you'll know Saga better you will understand.”   
“So you're a woman?”   
Astrid scrutinized Saga, trying to see female traces in her face and body; her short hair were not conclusive, but her skin was soft and without traces of beard or moustaches like men usually had.  
“I am indeed a woman, I can dress in my woman clothes if you want to see me.”   
Saga passed her hands on her white shirt and her breast appeared under the fabric.  
“I want you to keep the secret for your father. He spent years looking for you. We're hunting two killers, we need to find them. After that, things will change, but for the moment I must remain police.”  
Astrid nodded. Deep down she was not fully convinced: Francois used some girls as whores and Astrid heard stories about strange sexual requests and perversions.  
She had lost her innocence, not in a physical way, but she saw and heard things that made her grow up too fast.   
Henri assisted Astrid when she went upstairs for the night; in the closet all her old clothes were absurdly small, so he took one of Saga’s nightgowns and made a mental note to go shopping for Astrid the morning after.   
Astrid went to bed without complaining, too emotions for her in a single day; she looked at the dolls on the bed like objects that belonged to someone else.  
“Do you want me to stay here for a while?”   
Henri gestured to the armchair where he used to cradle her as a infant.  
“Until I'm asleep.”  
“Shall I turn the lamp off?”   
“No, I want the light on.”  
She turned in bed to look at her father.  
“Will I live here with you and Saga?”   
“Yes, here or elsewhere, always with us.”   
“You won’t send me away now you have a new wife?”  
“Never! I want you with me, I’ve searched you for years and now I’ll never leave you again.”  
“I'm afraid Francois can find me.”  
“Don’t worry about him, we’ll protect you, we know how to use a gun.”  
”Vut I want to help the other children.”  
“How many there are?”   
“Half a dozen who steals. Francois uses the most beautiful girls in brothels. I keep myself ugly and dirty so he doesn’t look at me.”  
“What do you know about brothels?”   
“They are places where men pay to have sex with women, I saw one once, it was dark and smelled of sweat, I hated it.”  
The idea his daughter could become one of the girls of a Madame was a like a fist in the stomach, Henri was angry with Francois and angrier with himself: those girls were someone else daughters and if Francois would have forced Astrid to become a whore they could have met and he would have paid for her without knowing the truth; he felt deeply ashamed, glad the semi darkness covered his face.  
Henri returned downstairs after an hour; Saga was reading, she put the book on the table hearing his steps.  
“How is she?”  
“Sleeping. I talked with her for a while”  
“Good. She's shocked.”  
“I know. She looked at her room like it was a foreign place.”  
“She needs time. She is safe here.”  
“I’ll talk with Lagrange and Durand about Francois, we have no time to investigate on him but Astrid wants to help the other children “

 

Linn arrived in Paris to organize the house for a family.   
Her efficiency and intelligence allowed Linn to become swiftly acquainted with the different rules and attitude of French people: in a few days she had visited the right shops, hired a cook, an expert maid and found a reliable carriage service.  
Astrid had another adult spoiling her, Linn never fully overcome Jennifer’s death and became protective toward the young girl. Henri was glad, Linn's presence meant someone else would keep an eye on Astrid. He had summoned his boss about Francois, but he feared an act of revenge from the burglars of Montmartre.   
Bertrand told him the policemen of the arrondissement would quietly control the n 12 during the shifts and Bertrand himself would be available at any time in case of need.   
So when Dupreè called from Troyes - Father Marcel was found dead in his carriage, strangled - Betrand moved to Henri's place for surveillance.   
They took the train late in the afternoon and Henri hoped to be back in the evening; the difference of having someone waiting at home meant everything of Henri now, he felt complete only with all his family.   
The priest's own carriage was in a quiet street two blocks from Saint Louis. The horse had been freed and the small carriage was tied to a pole, a motionless leg dangling from one side, a tarpaulin covering the dead body.   
Duprè ordered to close both ends of the road and to forbid people watching from windows. He asked if during the questioning the priest revealed something that could explain his death.   
“Not him, the sacristan.”  
“Yes, Sean is right, he told us about mainly Hubert, but also about father Marcel.”  
“He accepted money in exchange for sins. Like the church did in medieval times. The indulgences.”  
Duprè nodded, born into a Calvinist family, he knew well the often distorted concept of sin in the catholic church.   
“We'll get the sacristan now, Pellissier find and bring him at the station.”   
“I want to check something.”  
Sean jumped on the carriage and lifted the tarpaulin, Duprè seemed confused, the body had already been examined  
“Give me light, it’s getting dark “  
Henri lifted the lantern while Sean put his gloves on and methodically searched for body missing parts.  
“Nothing was removed.”  
“Do you think it is liked with us?” Henri asked.   
“No. Tell Duprè to examine the financial reports of the parish.”   
Henri saw a glimpse of gold and took the chain of the pocket watch, heavy and visibly expensive.  
“It can be. Too richness for a priest.”


End file.
